


Year of the snake

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Community: HPFT, Gen, Hogwarts, Neville's story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: Neville Longbottom knew before he left for his seventh year at Hogwarts that things were going to be different. He just didn't realise quite how different that would be.





	1. Journey into the unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction novel I've written since How to tame a Marauder, and it's nowhere near finished right now. I don't write in order, so that's actually pretty important, as sometimes I come up with things later on that need to be added to the earlier chapters. However, I'm pretty sure I have the first six chapters about right, so I've decided to start posting. My schedule will be one chapter a month at this stage; if it gets to the point that I can increase that frequency I will do so, but if that happens it'll be a while off. I'll be cross-posting on HPFT at the same time, and I admit the first four chapters are also on HPFF, and if you look at the date on those you'll see how long this has been on the backburner on my USB drive. (I have written other novels since then, but the're original fiction so won't be posted here.) Anyway, I'm hoping that having a regular posting schedule will inspire me to write some more of it, and with any luck I'll get this thing finished so I can start on another one.
> 
> HUGE thanks to Jasmine, my long-suffering beta, for her help with getting this to the stage it's at now, and for offering to beat me around the head a bit if I slack off in the writing stakes.

Neville Longbottom looked around the platform. There were certainly fewer people here than usual for the start of the school year – not only were student numbers diminished due to the new regulations on Muggle-borns, but several families were also staying away, sending maybe one parent to farewell their child rather than both, and keeping siblings at home. There was an uncomfortable feel about the place that he understood implicitly would not go away.

“Are you ready, Neville?” His grandmother looked him over critically, as though she would be able to tell just by his appearance whether he’d left anything behind again. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Neville sighed. “Of course I do, Gran,” he said. “I’ve done this before, remember?”

Augusta Longbottom looked at him and smiled. “I do believe you do,” she said, and Neville felt a jolt of appreciation, of acceptance. His grandmother had always had high expectations for him and had always been hard to please, but perhaps with this new regime, both at the Ministry and at Hogwarts, she would be more supportive of him. He certainly hoped so.

“Where is Harry Potter?” His grandmother’s voice jolted him from his thoughts and he looked down to see her scanning the crowds, as though she expected Harry to actually be there.

“I don’t think he’s coming back to school,” Neville said. He’d accepted this himself weeks earlier, as soon as Harry was nominated as Undesirable Number One, but saying the words aloud did make him feel their significance. “The Ministry’s after him, remember? Why would he walk right into their hands?” Frankly, if Harry did show up, with the ten-thousand Galleon price tag on his head, he would be far stupider than Neville thought.

“Nonsense,” Augusta snapped. “Hogwarts isn’t the Ministry.”

“But with Snape in charge, it might as well be.” Neville’s heart sank at this admission, as it had when he had seen the headlines in the _Daily Prophet_ that morning announcing the new Headmaster. This year would not be easy. “With Dumbledore gone, I don’t think we’re going to have that separation anymore.”

His grandmother looked shrewdly at him. “Be careful, Neville,” she said suddenly. “I would like you to survive the year.”

He smiled grimly at her and leaned down to kiss her briefly on the cheek. “I’ll do my best, Gran,” he promised. “I’ll do my best.”

****

Seamus Finnigan poked his head in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express, which was already well out of London on its way north. “Do you mind if I join you? I don’t think there’s anyone else from our dorm on here.”

Neville nodded and indicated the spare seat next to Ginny. “Dean’s not coming back either?”

Seamus shook his head. “His mam’s a Muggle and he doesn’t know who his da was, so he can’t defend himself to the Ministry. Thought it was better just to stay away entirely.”

“That’s a shame,” Ginny said. “Dean’s a good bloke.”

Seamus, who had just sat down, shot a look at her. “So good you dumped him?”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t a bit overbearing at times,” Ginny protested. “But overall, he’s a good sort. I hope he’s okay.”

“So where are Ron and Harry?” Seamus asked, looking both at her and at Neville.

Ginny answered. “Ron’s got Spattergroit. We’re not allowed to move him. If he gets better he might join us later on. Harry, I don’t know.” She shrugged, as though this was going to give truth to her words, which it was clear Seamus didn’t believe at all. “Though being on the Ministry’s hit list and all,” she went on, “I never really thought he’d come back.”

Seamus just raised his eyebrows, and looked at Neville as though wondering if he believed Ginny’s story. The answer was no – Neville was sure that Ron was perfectly well and was off somewhere with Harry and Hermione who, for obvious reasons, had also not returned to the school this year – but he also didn’t see any reason to share that with Seamus just yet. He still remembered Seamus’ hostility to Harry in fifth year, when he had believed what the _Prophet_ had been spouting about Harry being delusional, and wasn’t entirely convinced that, given the opportunity, Seamus wouldn’t betray their suspicions to someone like Snape.

Instead, he changed the subject, indicating the fourth person in the compartment. “Seamus, you know Luna, right?”

Seamus looked at Luna and, after a moment, nodded. “Ravenclaw, sixth year?” he asked, extending a hand for her to shake.

Luna ignored the hand, instead staring at him with that intense gaze she had. “Seamus Finnigan,” she said in her sing-song voice. “You were late joining the DA.”

Seamus looked uncomfortable, though Neville was secretly thrilled that Luna had brought this up. It would have to be dealt with eventually and sooner was better than later. “Yeah, well, my mam didn’t want me to,” Seamus explained, his face looking a little shifty. “But I was there for the end. And I’m right behind Harry and whatever he’s doing.”

Ginny still looked a little suspicious. “We don’t know if Harry’s doing anything,” she said. “He could be laying low at Sirius’ place for all we know, just keeping his head down. That is, if he wants to keep it on at all this year.”

They sat in silence for a while, the wall of mistrust obvious to all of them, until Luna changed the subject to something they could all contribute to. “My father told me that Professor Burbage has resigned,” she said. “Though he thinks she’s really been killed because of her tolerance towards Muggles. In either case she won’t be teaching this year, will she?”

Shuddering at the idea that Professor Burbage had been murdered by the new regime, Neville grabbed the subject change with both hands. “Actually, how many of the teachers do you think will still be there? Snape, obviously … but do you think they’ll have got rid of McGonagall?”

Ginny shook her head. “Bet they wanted to but couldn’t. She’s as much a part of Hogwarts as Dumbledore was, they’ll have to kill her before she goes anywhere.”

“Even that might not work,” Seamus said glibly. “Didn’t with Binns, did it?”

Neville was thinking hard. “They’ll need a new Defence teacher, obviously,” he said, counting off on his fingers. “And Muggle Studies, if what you say is right, Luna. That makes two new professors this year. Has anyone heard of any other vacancies?”

“Not me.” Ginny shrugged. “But then again I’m hardly someone who’d know, am I? What with Dad on the suspect list and everything.”

Neville frowned. “Is he? I didn’t know that.”

“Being friends with Harry and supporting Muggle rights, what did you think he was?” Ginny looked scornful. “But yeah, I’d be the last person to find out anything interesting. Even if Dad did know something, he and Mum never tell me anything.” Her voice was bitter and Neville had the distinct impression that Ginny planned to do as much about that as she could.

“The Ministry’s out of control anyway,” Luna said serenely. “Everyone knows that Pius Thicknesse has inherited Cornelius Fudge’s army of Heliopaths and is training up chimaeras next.”

Neville ignored Luna’s ramblings – as he usually did when she went off on a tangent like this – and frowned again. “I don’t like the Ministry being overrun like this. It’s all wrong. The Aurors are supposed to hunt down Dark wizards – what are they doing now? Looking for Muggle-borns who haven’t registered. It’s a waste of talent. Someone like Mad-Eye Moody shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Moody’s dead,” Ginny said flatly.

Neville stared at her. “What?”

“He’s dead,” she said. “He was killed the night they got Harry out of his family’s place. Stunned off his broom, or something.” She blinked, and he had the distinct impression that she was trying not to cry. “Bill – my brother – went looking for him, but they couldn’t find him. The Death Eaters probably have him now.”

Neville’s heart sank. He’d liked Mad-Eye Moody, even if he’d never really met the real man. When Barty Crouch had been impersonating him, though, in fourth year, he’d shown Neville some real kindness and understanding that not many other people had. Even though, at an intellectual level, Neville knew that the man he’d known had actually been part of the group who had tortured his parents into madness, at an emotional level he had liked the fake Moody. The man had understood him, not scorned or disdained him, and he had really appreciated that.

“But if Moody’s gone, who’s looking after the Aurors?” Seamus looked confused.

“Bloke called Dawlish, I think,” Ginny said dispassionately, clearly either over her recent display of emotion or successfully covering it up. “I don’t think Dad thinks much of him.”

“And they’re all looking for Muggle-borns? It’s ridiculous,” Seamus said.

Ginny blew her nose and nodded. “Well, it’s obvious that Thicknesse has been Imperiused, or something,” she said, indicating Luna with her left hand. “He might not have Heliopaths or chimaeras but he’s not on our side either. And neither is the school, by the looks of things.” She looked down and when she spoke again her voice was quiet. “I miss Dumbledore. I know he hasn’t been gone long, but you can see how much has changed just in those few weeks.”

Neville nodded. “I think we all miss him,” he said. “But I have a feeling we’re going to miss him much more before this year is out.”


	2. The welcoming feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... which, as it turns out, isn't particularly welcoming at all.

There were far fewer Thestral-drawn carriages than usual to greet the train when it reached Hogsmeade, and maybe half the normal number of chattering students gathering on the platform to board them. Actually, Neville noticed, they weren’t even chattering – there seemed to be an air of disquiet that enveloped them. They all knew that things were going to be different this year, and it showed.

The only ones who didn’t seem to be bothered by the recent turn of events were the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy was strutting around the platform like he owned it, and Neville caught a glint of not one but two pins on his pristine robes.

“Don’t tell me Malfoy’s Head Boy,” he muttered to no one in particular.

Ginny laughed sourly. “Who else would Snape have chosen? Bet the Head Girl’s a Slytherin as well.”

Neville wracked his brain to try to remember who the other sixth year Slytherin Prefect had been. “Pansy Parkinson,” he said eventually. “Yep, that’d be right. Though,” he went on, thinking about it, “there may not have been a lot of choice.”

Seamus looked puzzled as the four of them climbed into a carriage. “What do you mean?”

“Look around.” Neville waved a hand at the surrounding carriages. “Ron and Hermione are our Prefects – not here. Hannah Abbott left last year after her mum was killed and I haven’t seen her back again, so there goes another one. That just leaves Ernie Macmillan and the two Ravenclaws, who were all in the DA.”

“Are we starting the DA up again this year?” Luna asked suddenly.

Neville stared at her. “What?”

She pulled a gold coin out of her pocket and smiled serenely. “I’ve still got my Galleon.”

“Me too,” Seamus said, fishing in his pockets for a good while before eventually pulling out an identical coin. His eyes darted to Luna as if to say this proved his dedication to the group.

Neville turned to Ginny. “Yep, me as well,” she said with a grin before looking serious again. “But really, we should think about it. Something tells me we might need it.”

He felt railroaded. “But who would teach it? It couldn’t be me, I don’t know nearly enough. Are any of you volunteering?”

Three faces fell, and Neville breathed a sigh of relief. While re-forming the DA would have been nice, without Harry he just didn’t see how it could be possible.

They went the rest of the way to the castle in silence, the feeling of foreboding increasing the closer they got. To distract himself, Neville started watching Ginny out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t seen her since before the holidays and while she was still as pretty as she’d always been, there was a hardness to her that hadn’t been there before. He suspected that the past couple of months were taking their toll on her much more than she liked to admit.

Neville wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d once had a crush on Ginny, back in fourth year when she’d agreed to go with him to the Yule Ball. It had never got anywhere and besides, it had always been clear that she preferred Harry, something Neville had understood and accepted without bitterness. People like Ginny always preferred the likes of Harry over the likes of him. It was just the way things were.

When they entered the Great Hall the lack of students was even more pronounced. Less than half the seats around the long tables were occupied, the usual sea of black pointed hats a mere trickle, and the group of first years that Professor McGonagall herded in could just about be counted on two hands. Hogwarts’ new ban on Muggle-borns was clearly taking its toll.

“D’you really think that there are that many who are Muggle-born?” Seamus asked as they took their places at the Gryffindor table on the far left of the hall.

Neville shook his head. “I reckon there are a fair few who just didn’t want to come back,” he said.

“What, even with the Ministry looking for them? Isn’t attendance compulsory now?”

Neville just shrugged. “Anyone over fifth year could leave anyway,” he pointed out. “They don’t need a reason not to be here.”

“I’m not sure they’re taking that as an excuse,” Seamus said.

“Right. Good point. And who knows how many more are like Ron and pretending to be ill?”

Ginny cleared her throat noisily beside him. “Ron _is_ ill,” she said in a tone that would book no opposition. “He has Spattergroit, remember?”

“Oh, yes, right. Sorry, Ginny.” Neville didn’t believe a word of it, and he knew Ginny knew that, but he also understood that they had to keep up the charade. The Weasleys were in enough trouble as it was, as Ginny had intimated on the train, without them making things even more difficult for them.

They were interrupted by a loud thunderclap, and looked up to see clouds swirling angrily above them as a storm raged in. Not for the first time, Neville was thankful that it was just a mirage above them, and that there really was a ceiling to shield them from the weather. He was about to say something of the sort to Ginny, and that he hoped the tempest above wouldn’t be a portent for the year, when a hush came over the Hall as Professor McGonagall brought in the old Sorting Hat. Forgetting about the storm in his curiosity as to what it would say this year, Neville listened to its song intently.

_“Welcome all, to Hogwarts where_  
_We greet another year;_  
 _A welcome to our newest stars_  
 _And those who reappear._  
 _Come ride with me as we explore_  
 _The roads you all shall take,_  
 _And watch with awe as fortunes rise_  
 _Or, conversely, they break._  
 _But this year brings a different trial_  
 _With challenges anew_  
 _Which makes me wonder, as I Sort_  
 _If this is wrong to do._  
 _Oh, bravest go to Gryffindor_  
 _As always they must head,_  
 _And cleverest to Ravenclaw –_  
 _The brightest, most well-read._  
 _The loyal flock to Hufflepuff_  
 _Where they shall congregate,_  
 _And cunning go to Slytherin_  
 _To help them mould their fate._  
 _But I feel a difference in the Hall_  
 _Beginning this fine year_  
 _And deference to a newer force_  
 _That once we used to fear._  
 _So even I must hesitate_  
 _When separating all_  
 _Because I fear the day will come_  
 _When divided, they will fall._  
 _And so I urge the Hogwarts folk_  
 _To unite for the best_  
 _And thus warned, I feel now I may_  
 _Sort those who join our nest.”_

Seamus let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a warning if ever I heard one,” he said under his breath as “Burke, Constance” was sorted into Slytherin.

Ginny nodded almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t like the sound of it either.”

Neville’s eyes were on Snape at the Head Table. The new Headmaster was sitting in Dumbledore’s place in the centre, watching the Sorting impassively and flanked by two new staff members who looked vaguely familiar. “I’m not sure Snape heard it,” he said slowly. “I’d have thought he’d have been up in arms about a message like that, but he’s just letting it go.”

Seamus looked hopeful. “Well, maybe things won’t be as bad as we’d thought,” he whispered as “Croaker, Digby” joined Ravenclaw.

“Let’s just wait and see. Maybe he couldn’t hear it over the storm.” Neville set his jaw grimly. Even though he suspected Snape had indeed let the Sorting Hat get away with what it had said, he still didn’t like the feeling he had about this year. Suppressing his feeling of dread, he scanned the staff table to see who was still there.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had been retained. Neville breathed a sigh of relief as “Gudgeon, Miriam” was welcomed to the Hufflepuff table – McGonagall was like the bastion of a bygone era, proof that this had once been Dumbledore’s realm. He was pleased, too, to see Professor Sprout there as well; Herbology would hopefully be untainted by the new regime. Slughorn was back as Potions master, Flitwick kept Charms, and Hagrid seemed to still be in charge of Care of Magical Creatures … even Professor Trelawney, whose Divination was the laughing stock of the school, was still there. Indeed, aside from the new arrivals – whom Neville assumed must be taking the Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts roles – the staff seemed remarkably unchanged.

He was still mulling that over his mind when “Worple, Ignatius” was sorted into Gryffindor, and the Headmaster stood up.

As always, Snape’s face was totally unreadable. He neither smiled nor frowned, and nor did he have the triumphant look Neville had almost expected him to wear. “Welcome to a new school year,” he said silkily, his voice immediately silencing the room. “I know you are all weary and hungry from your journey, so enjoy the feast. I will detail the changes to your schedules once you have finished.”

Ginny sat up straight, her face alarmed. “Changes? What changes?” But her concerns were drowned out by the appearance of mountains of food in front of them, the table almost groaning under the weight.

“Well, one thing hasn’t changed,” Seamus said as he piled a plate high with roast chicken, dumplings and mashed potatoes. “No one’s told the house elves that there are less of us this year.” He heaped a forkful into his mouth appreciatively.

Neville was as bothered as Ginny about what Snape had said, but without more information they couldn’t even really speculate. Shrugging, he got himself a plate and started following Seamus’ example. Even if Hogwarts had gone to mud, at least they would eat well.

Soon enough, though, with the storm settled and the feast – half of it uneaten – over, Snape again stood, drawing everyone’s attention. When he spoke, his voice was quiet yet commanding.

“It is time for me to introduce some new members of staff,” he said, his face still inscrutable. “Amycus Carrow has agreed to take on the role of Dark Arts professor.” A short, lumpy looking man with a lopsided stare stood up, to be greeted by less than a smattering of applause. Snape went on regardless. “We are also fortunate to have obtained the services of his sister, Alecto Carrow, who will be the new Muggle Studies instructor.”

As the equally short and ugly woman stood, Neville suddenly knew why the two newcomers looked familiar. “They’re Death Eaters,” he whispered to no one in particular. “They were here at the battle last term.”

The Headmaster, unfortunately, had noticed him speak. “Is there something you would like to share with the school, Longbottom?”

Neville gulped. Snape always had this effect on him: making him forget everything and appear the fool. “No, sir.”

“Then perhaps you should remain silent.” The contempt in Snape’s voice was palpable, and Neville wished the ground would swallow him up. He only looked up when Ginny placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

The Headmaster was continuing. “Both Professor Carrows will also be acting as my deputies. In addition, there will be a minor change in the curriculum: Muggle Studies is now a compulsory subject for all students. Your class schedules have been amended accordingly.”

Three seats down from Snape, Professor McGonagall’s lips formed the thinnest line Neville had ever seen. It was clear that she, for one, did not approve of the new arrangements.

“You should also be aware that anything purchased at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is not permitted on the school grounds.” Neville stifled a smile – he was under the impression it pained Snape to have to actually name Fred and George Weasley’s shop. “If you have brought any of these items with you, you must surrender them to Mr Filch after the feast. There are no exceptions to this rule.”

“Ha!” Ginny whispered next to him. “Fat chance I’ll be handing those in.”

“The message boards in your common rooms will have all information about any clubs or societies.” Snape paused. “I trust you will not make things difficult for the staff. Be aware that there will be consequences if you do.” He sat down again, his speech clearly over, and the room erupted into chatter.

“He said Dark Arts,” Ginny said quietly, looking nervously around her. “Not _Defence Against_ the Dark Arts, but Dark Arts. Does that mean that we’re going to be learning dark magic this year?”

Neville started; he hadn’t noticed that. “Are you sure?”

Ginny nodded, a hard, determined look on her face and her fists in tight balls. “I think that’s the main change. Instead of Defence, they’re going to be teaching us the actual Dark Arts this year. They’re training us to be Death Eaters.”

****

Up in their dormitory, Neville and Seamus looked around in silence. It was strange being in that familiar round room, with the scarlet wall hangings and high windows and ceiling, and seeing Harry’s bed, and Ron’s, and Dean’s, knowing all three of them would be vacant for the full year.

Seamus felt it too. “Weird, isn’t it?” he said, his voice indicating that he wasn’t sure whether he should be sounding upbeat or depressed about their situation. Neville could understand that, because he wasn’t sure how he should be feeling either. Resigned, really, to how it would be this year – that was it. Seamus was probably the same.

“I guess the question is whether we should leave these beds for them, just in case they do come later, or just spread out and make ourselves at home,” he said, then regretted it immediately. Did he sound too callous? Or was he just being practical? He didn’t know any more.

Seamus looked like he was considering this. “Leave them be for now,” he suggested. “But we’ll probably spread out anyway, won’t we?” He grinned suddenly. “I don’t mind having a bit more room. It is pretty crowded in here usually.”

Neville sat down on his bed, then stood up again quickly as he realised that Trevor had parked himself there already. Moving down the bed a couple of feet and picking the toad up fondly, he looked at the trunk at the end of it and wondered how much space he would really need. “Do you think Ginny’s right?” he asked to change the subject. “That they’re going to be teaching us the Dark Arts?”

Seamus nodded. “I noticed it too. No mention of Defence, just the Dark Arts. And with things the way they are, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What about Quidditch? Do you think that will be allowed?” Neville wasn’t particularly interested in Quidditch himself, but he recognised its significance to the school community. If Quidditch was being played, it all felt normal. If it was banned, that was when the students started fighting back.

It wasn’t clear whether Seamus shared this recognition, but he was certainly a Quidditch fan and Neville’s words startled him. “Dunno. Maybe that’s what Snape meant when he said to keep an eye on the common room boards.” They’d both checked when they’d arrived, but the board was, at this stage, empty.

Neville had a feeling that Quidditch would not be allowed to proceed this year: it was something Snape would never be able to control. He could understand, though, why the new Headmaster may not have mentioned that at the welcome feast. There was enough for people to digest without the potential for a Quidditch-based mutiny.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.” It was stating the obvious, but Neville had to say _something_. “Death Eaters teaching us …”

“Are you absolutely sure about them being Death Eaters?” Seamus looked sceptical. “Surely even Snape wouldn’t be that obvious.”

“I saw them last term. At the battle in the tower when Dumbledore …” Neville’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish the sentence, instead swallowing and starting again. “I’m positive it’s the same two.”

Seamus didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened. Not wanting to think about it, Neville opened his trunk and started putting things away, keeping to his own fifth of the room. Seamus watched him for a while, then followed suit. The silence lasted for several minutes, the only noise being the rain clattering on the windows, until Seamus broke it, his eyes on Neville’s bedside cabinet.

“You brought _that_?”

“What?” Neville followed Seamus’ gaze. “Oh, that. Yes, Gran bought it. She thinks it’s good to know what the other side are saying.”

“Is Rita Skeeter really on the other side?” Seamus came over and picked up Neville’s copy of _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore._ “I thought she was just a hack.”

“She writes for the _Prophet_. And whose backs are the _Prophet_ scratching now?” Neville sat down again. “I’ve read most of it, and I reckon most of it’s rubbish. But it’s what they’re going to be saying about him so we have to know.”

Seamus was thumbing through the book. “You really feel like you can’t trust anyone now, don’t you? Except Ginny and that Luna.” His own name was conspicuous by its absence, something both of them realised.

Neville felt defensive. “Well, do you blame me?” He couldn’t shake off his doubts about Seamus, and the way he’d abandoned Harry so easily in fifth year.

Seamus sat down, facing him, the book open on his lap. “Okay, I get it, you don’t really trust me because I believed that stuff in the _Prophet_ a couple of years back. But this is different. This is the real thing. And I hate it.” He shook his head. “Do you really think I could possibly want any of this? Everyone gone, Harry with a price on his head?” He bit his lip, and Neville got the impression he was trying to stay calm. “I just want things back the way they were.”

 


	3. The Carrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes start, and Neville gets a pretty good understanding of how things are going to be this year.

The next morning Professor McGonagall walked down the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables. “Here you are, Longbottom,” she said as she passed it to him, barely affording him a glance before flicking through her pile to find Seamus’, next to him. Neville didn’t take it personally. He had never been particularly noticeable.

He looked at his paper and grinned. “You might be wrong,” he said quietly across the table where the red head of Ginny Weasley was busy consulting her schedule. “It says Defence Against the Dark Arts. Not just Dark Arts.”

Ginny looked at him, ignoring the much-smaller-than-usual group of friends who always seemed to surround her. “Really?” She checked the paper again. “You’re right, it does. Well, maybe I was.”

Neville knew it was more hope than conviction, but then again it was much easier to feel hopeful this morning. The storm had dissipated, leaving the sky-ceiling of the Great Hall a beautiful clear blue, and in the light of day everything seemed much less spooky than it had the night before. Even Snape and the two Death Eaters flanking him appeared – well, not friendlier, but certainly less intimidating.

A Slytherin-robed boy of third or fourth year came shyly up to Ginny and handed her a small scroll, which she took with obvious surprise. “What’s this?”

“Professor Slughorn asked me to give it to you,” the boy said nervously, then skittered away with a terrified look on his face.

Ginny stared at him. “What was that about?”

“Maybe he thinks you’re going to give him Harry Potter germs,” one of her friends said. Neville watched her curiously for a reaction.

“Harry has germs now, does he?” Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, whatever. It’s not like I could pass them on anyway, given we _broke up_ last June.” She glared at the girl who had brought it up. “Which I really like being reminded of, by the way.”

“Of course, Gin. Sorry.” The girl looked chastened, but Ginny, far from looking angry, instead flashed a very quick grin at Neville before opening the scroll the boy had brought her.

“What is it?” Neville asked. He had an idea he knew, as the scroll looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t sure.

“Slug Club,” Ginny said dispassionately, dropping the parchment in her bag. “Wants us to meet tonight. Anyway, I have to go – Potions class. Coming, you lot?” She turned to her sixth-year companions as she stood to leave. Two got up with her, while the last muttered something about not getting into Potions and stayed put.

“What was that about?” Seamus whispered as they got up too, heading towards the greenhouses for Herbology. “Do you think she hasn’t really broken up with Harry?”

“Oh, I think they’ve broken up all right,” Neville said. What he wasn’t sure of was whether this meant they weren’t in contact, but he didn’t want to say that now. If Harry and Ginny _were_ writing to each other, it was clear she didn’t want the fact publicly known.

“And what about the Slug Club?” Seamus asked, walking a little too close to one of the rosebushes and getting his cloak caught. “You’re in that too, aren’t you?”

“Me? No, I’m not,” Neville said, waiting as Seamus disentangled himself. “I mean, I was, but I’m not anymore. Slughorn didn’t think I had enough promise, I don’t think.”

Seamus stared at him. “Really? He just ditched you? But that’s not fair.”

Neville just shrugged, not really surprised Seamus hadn’t noticed this the previous year. “It’s what he does. You have to be useful to him to stay. I guess I just wasn’t useful enough.”

Seamus muttered something under his breath that Neville was sure his mam wouldn’t want him saying. “I still think that’s not right. You should show him, Neville.”

Neville sighed. His grandmother, Professor McGonagall, and now Professor Slughorn. Just another person he had to impress.

Fortunately, Professor Sprout was far easier to deal with. Neville had established a good relationship with her back in fifth year when he had produced a _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , much to the professor’s delight. He had found himself heading for the greenhouses a few times that year and the next, looking for a sympathetic ear, and wondered more than once why the Sorting Hat hadn’t allowed him to be in her House.

The lack of students this year was more obvious than ever now classes had started. Less than half of the NEWT Herbology students had returned, which meant Professor Sprout had far more Fanged Geraniums on hand than necessary.

“Dear, dear,” she said, looking Neville, Seamus, Draco Malfoy, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot, who comprised the whole class. “Well, it looks like you’ll have a lot more personal attention this year, doesn’t it?” She smiled brightly, though it looked pained, and Malfoy squirmed a little.

“Can we get started?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes, of course.” Professor Sprout seemed to get her usual brisk manner back in nanoseconds. “Right, we’re working on the Fanged Geraniums today. I want you to extract the fangs and save them in these pots. Oh, and mind you don’t get bitten.”

The fact there were only five people in the class meant that it was impossible to talk or do anything not related to Herbology, but Neville found he didn’t mind very much: he had plenty of things to occupy his mind. The titling of Defence Against the Dark Arts had been a relief, for example, but he shared some of Ginny’s cynicism about what it meant. He was also curious about the return of the Slug Club, and Ginny’s inclusion in it, because that meant that Snape hadn’t put his foot down either about the Club’s existence, or who Slughorn could invite. The twin facts of Ginny being a Weasley and her (past) relationship with Harry meant she would certainly have been left out had Snape been exerting his influence, and as she was still invited it gave Neville hope that this year wouldn’t be as bad as they feared.

Before long, however, he was distracted by Draco Malfoy, who was back to his usual pastime of pestering people behind the teacher’s back. As soon as Professor Sprout turned around, he would encourage his Fanged Geranium around to where Neville and Seamus were working, trying to get it to bite them. So far he’d had little luck, as Seamus (who was closest) always managed to get out of the way in time, but that didn’t stop him trying.

Finally, Seamus had had enough. Narrowly avoiding the plant’s teeth for the twelfth time, he whipped out his wand and angrily Transfigured it into a puffapod. Malfoy, who had been struggling to extract a fang, pulled it out easily at the transformation but was so surprised he dropped it, making it burst into a large flower. His surprised exclamation was enough to attract Professor Sprout’s attention.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Finnegan,” she said, seeing his wand still out and the puffapod in Malfoy’s pot. “And I’m supposed to send you to Professor Carrow as well, so can you go to the staff room after class please.”

Seamus looked up in surprise. “Which Professor Carrow?”

Sprout seemed momentarily confused. “Well, either of them, I believe. They’re in charge of punishments this year. Now, Mr Malfoy, I believe you know enough magic to Transfigure that back, so how about you get back to work.”

Malfoy looked a little gleeful at the mention of the Carrows, and a shiver went down Neville’s spine. Why was Professor Sprout supposed to send miscreants to them? Was there a new discipline regime in place as well as a teaching one?

Sure enough, at the end of the lesson Seamus had a piece of parchment in an envelope which they assumed carried details of his crime. He didn’t seem too concerned, though. “I Transfigured a plant, big deal,” he said as they walked back to the castle. “What’s the worst they’ll do to me?”

His answer came that afternoon, when the seventh-years had their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat silently in the classroom while their new teacher, a short, lumpy man with what looked like a permanent leer, faffed around at the staff table at the front.

“Quiet, you lot,” he said finally, when he’d finished whatever he was doing. “Finnegan, up ’ere.”

Seamus looked warily at Neville, then shuffled out of his seat and stood at the front of the room next to Professor Carrow. He was a good head taller than the teacher and, Neville would have wagered, knew more than him as well. However, he stood there obediently and waited.

The rest of the class did, too. Some reports had been whispered around the school of earlier DADA classes, in which students were humiliated, punished and even hurt, all in the name of teaching. They already understood that crossing the Carrows was not a good idea. Neville felt a guilty relief that it was Seamus standing up there and not himself: thanks to the likes of Snape, he’d been humiliated enough for one lifetime.

“Finnegan ’ere cast a spell on our ’Ead Boy this morning,” Amycus Carrow said in his wheezy voice. “We can’t ’ave kiddies casting spells on ’im like that. ’E’ll lose all authority.”

Neville turned to look at Malfoy, who had a greedy, almost rapturous, smirk on his face. Only when Carrow spoke again did his attention return to the front, and then it was in horror.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

The class sat up as one as Seamus collapsed into a heap on the floor, screaming. Amycus Carrow was using an Unforgivable Curse on him, probably to set an example. Neville covered his eyes and ears, unable to witness it.

_We need Harry here._ Harry would have done something by now, Neville thought furiously. Harry would have put a stop to it. Why did Harry have to be somewhere else when they needed him there?

By now Seamus wasn’t the only one screaming, as most of the girls and more than one of the boys reacted to the horror that was happening in front of them.

Finally he could take it no longer, and braved the wrath of Carrow himself. “Stop it!” he yelled over the sounds of Seamus’ torture. “Stop it!”

Carrow looked at him and grinned evilly, but he did stop the spell. “It’s Longbottom, innit?” he asked. “Yeah, I guess you’d know all about that one.”

Neville ignored the jibe and instead went to help Seamus back to his desk, shaking almost as much as Seamus was. When they were both seated Carrow spoke again.

“Ye’ll be learnin’ ’ow to do that,” he wheezed. “We don’ want troublemakers at this school, so we’re gonna make sure that anyone ’oo does break the rules don’t do it more than once.”

Neville gasped, and by the sounds of it most of the class did as well. Michael Corner put up a hand.

“Yes?” Carrow said.

“You’re going to teach us Unforgiveable Curses?” Michael asked in a shocked voice.

“Ye’ll do more than learn ’em,” Carrow smirked. “Ye’ll be doin’ ’em. On people like Finnegan ’ere ’oo don’ know ’ow to behave. But firs’, ye’ll be doin’ some jinxes an’ stuff. Show me what ye can do and what ye’ can’t.”

Seamus was still shivering by Neville’s side, and Neville subtly put a Copying Charm on his parchment so Seamus wouldn’t have to take his own notes. Not that Neville wanted to take notes himself, but then again he didn’t fancy facing what had happened to Seamus. Longbottoms didn’t come out well from the Cruciatus Curse.

Muggle Studies, which they had directly afterwards, wasn’t much better, as they came face to face with the other new professor.

“In ye come,” Alecto Carrow cackled when they crowded into the classroom. “Pure-bloods at the back. I want the ’alf-bloods where I can see ’em.”

Neville and Seamus looked at each other and parted ways, Neville for the shaded rear seats and Seamus, thanks to his Muggle father, prominent at the front. He still looked shaken from his torture during Defence – or, as Neville reminded himself, Dark Arts, as there was no defence in sight anymore – and Neville hoped there wasn’t anything like that in store this lesson. Slowly, his classmates filed in around him, pure-bloods like himself in the back of the room, and half-bloods at the front. There were, of course, no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts.

“I’ve put this lot at the front,” Professor Carrow said, looking at them with a slightly lopsided gaze due to one eye being significantly larger than the other, “’cuz I don’ trust ’em. They got Muggle blood in ’em. That means they’re almost Mudbloods. It’s only the pure, magical blood they got that’s let ’em into this school.

“Muggles, see, are filth,” she went on. “They’re low as rats, and they’re not worth our time.”

_Why are you making us learn about them then?_ Neville thought furiously. But he wasn’t game to say it. After what had happened to Seamus, he wasn’t game to stick his neck out at all.

Alecto Carrow was looking puzzled, or as puzzled as she was able to. “Well? Why ain’t ye writin’ this down?” There was a flurry of movement as people reached into bags and extracted quills, parchment and ink bottles, and started scribbling down the professor’s words.

Professor Carrow flicked her wand at the board and the class looked at it expectantly. Nothing appeared. Unperturbed, she tried again, and again, until frustration showed on her squat face. “Bleeding Muggle probably made it,” she muttered. Neville stifled a laugh, noticing as he did so that many of the others were doing the same thing. He just hoped Carrow didn’t notice because he suspected she wouldn’t see the joke. Finally the spell worked for her, and a triangle appeared on the board featuring the heading, “Magical Hierarchy.” Pure-bloods were at the top, prominent in their domination. Below that, in smaller writing, were the half-bloods, and at the very bottom, noticeable only by their numbers, were Muggles.

“This is what ye’ll need t’ remember,” Alecto Carrow said. “Pure blood’s the only blood worth anythin’. If ye’ve got pure blood in ye, then ye’ll have a place in our world. The more Muggle blood ye’ve got, though, the less ye’re worth. People like Finnegan ’ere –” and Neville shuddered that Seamus had been singled out again – “ain’t worth as much as, say, Malfoy, see, ’cuz Malfoy’s got pure blood. An’ that’s why he’s the ’Ead Boy and Finnegan ain’t. Because blood’s important.”

“But inbreeding makes no difference,” Parvati Patil, who was sitting next to Neville, whispered. Neville offered her a weak smile and tried not to laugh. What Professor Carrow was spouting was no laughing matter.

“Muggles,” Professor Carrow went on, “are on’y good fer doing stuff that we can’t do by magic, an’ we don’t wanna do ourselves. There’s enough of ’em to do our dirty work, but not enough of ’em that we can’t control ’em. That’s what it’s about, see. Gettin’ Muggles to understand ’ow much better than ’em we are.”

Susan Bones put up a tentative hand. “But what about the Statute of Secrecy?”

Alecto Carrow snorted. “Statute of Secrecy? Missy, we won’t need no Statute by the time we’re done. They’ll know plenty ’bout us, and they’ll bow down to us too.”

Another shiver went down Neville’s spine. _I don’t like where this is going. I don’t like it at all. Someone needs to stand up to them._ He looked around helplessly at the rest of the class, wondering why none of them said anything. Frustrated, he wished for it once more.

_Where’s Harry when you need him?_


	4. The new arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of the new regime brings even more reasons to rebel.

Dinner that evening had everyone in mixed spirits. People were downcast about what had been happening in the Carrows’ classes – and word had moved quickly around the school in that regard – and there was a feeling of disbelief that it had been allowed to occur at all. A quick glance at the staff table, though, had Neville in no doubt that people like Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout had no intention of putting up with it for long. They just needed to pick their time.

Seamus was surrounded at the Gryffindor table, his punishment at the hands of the Carrows already widely known. Neville could hear a dozen worried voices all blending in with each other. “Are you okay?” “How did it feel?” And even, “How are you going to get back at them?”

While Neville could understand the sentiment of that last question, he doubted its wisdom. Going against the Carrows would earn you an Unforgivable Curse or two, he now knew. And he wasn’t sure they would stop at _Crucio_.

“How is he?” Ginny asked, sliding in next to him at the table and reaching for a plate.

“I’m not sure,” Neville said. It was the truth: while he thought Seamus was dealing with the trauma remarkably well, he hadn’t been able to get close enough to him to find out since they were in Muggle Studies.

“I haven’t had either of them yet,” Ginny said, indicating the staff table – and the Carrows – with her elbow. “But I can tell you that Snape’s on the warpath. He was inspecting our Potions class and threatened me with detention because I put the wrong ingredient in my cauldron – even though what was written on the board wasn’t clear. Gotta say, though, I’m glad he didn’t. After what Seamus and Romilda went through …”

Neville turned to look at her, his fork pausing in mid-air on its way to his mouth. Mashed potato dropped to his plate. “Romilda?”

“Romilda Vane,” Ginny said, pointing down the table. “Fifth year. She didn’t get it as bad as Seamus – probably because she’s pure-blood – but Amycus Carrow got to her as well. Apparently she was found with a love potion that she’d bought from Fred and George’s.”

Neville stifled a grin. “I remember her. Wasn’t she the one …”

“Who tried to use one on Harry last year? Yep, that’s her. Wonder who she’s got her sights on this time. Surely she can’t have thought Harry was coming back.” Ginny looked completely unconcerned with the romantic exploits of her former rival, and Neville found himself wondering, as Seamus had the day before, whether she and Harry really had broken up after all. There was something in her expression that made him think he might have had it wrong.

“So what’s the punishment for a love potion?” Neville asked. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know, but then again it was good to be aware of what they were up against.

Ginny shrugged. “Apparently he threatened her with the Entrail-Expelling Curse, but because she’s a pure-blood, and to the best of their knowledge no one actually got hurt, he just practiced Engorging her.”

Neville looked sideways at her. “What are you going to do about your things from Fred and George’s?” He didn’t know what she had, but he knew she’d have something.

She just shrugged again, looking around furtively, but her friends and hangers-on were gathered around Seamus and, to a lesser degree, Romilda, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two of them whatsoever. “I checked the list on Filch’s door,” she said. “It says that anything bought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is contraband. Thing is, though, I didn’t buy any of my stuff. As soon as word got out that Snape was the new Headmaster, Fred and George gave it all to me free.”

Neville was sceptical. “Do you really think they’re going to see the difference?”

“I’m just following the rules,” Ginny said, her chin set with stubborn determination. “Nothing bought from Fred and George’s shop. Well, I don’t _have_ anything bought there. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m okay.”

Neville let it slide. While he was confident about Ginny’s ability to argue the point effectively, he was just as confident Snape and the Carrows wouldn’t care. But then again, they could cross that bridge when they came to it. “So what exactly do you have?”

“A few trick wands, some decoy detonators, a few Skiving Snackboxes and some extendable ears,” she said. “Though I’m sure they’ll send more if I ask them.”

“And you don’t think Snape will be having your post searched?” Neville asked.

Ginny just shrugged again, then smiled wickedly. “Then they can send it to you.”

When dinner was over and Seamus had extricated himself from the concerned crowd around him, they headed back upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. On the second floor, Neville found he and Seamus were unexpectedly joined by Luna. “I’ve been talking to a few people,” she said without preamble, “and they all think that you should start the DA up again.”

Neville stopped halfway up the staircase between the second and third floors. “Luna, are you mad? What do you think something like this will do once Snape gets wind of it? Don’t you know what happened to Seamus?”

Seamus, on the other side of Neville, nodded seriously.

“Of course,” Luna said. “Everyone knows. That’s why we have to start it again. We can’t let them get away with it.” She looked at Seamus. “And even you will join up right at the start this time, won’t you?”

Seamus looked surprised. “Well, of course,” he said, then paused. “But you can’t be serious. Doing something like that right under their noses? That’s – that’s crazy!” He shuddered, and Neville was pretty sure he knew what Seamus was thinking. He didn’t want a repeat of today happening any time soon.

Neville nodded. “It was okay for someone like Harry, who knew everything and what it was like to use it,” he said, “but us?”

“Why not?” Luna asked, putting her hand on his back to hurry them up the stairs. “You’ve done it too. I remember, I was there.” She smiled briefly. “And I’ve still got my Galleon.” With that, she skipped on ahead of them, leaving Neville and Seamus looking blankly at each other.

“You’ve got to admit, it would be nice,” Seamus said slowly as they made their way up yet another staircase towards Gryffindor Tower. “But who’s going to set it up? It’s not like we’ve got Harry and Hermione here.”

“That’s exactly it,” Neville said heavily. “If there’s to be a DA this year, it has to be us.”

This thought troubled him for the rest of the evening. He sat by the fire in the common room, his back to the rest of the house and his thoughts drowning out the background noise of overexcited first years looking around, older students playing Exploding Snap and Seamus being swarmed by curious well-wishers. Ignoring the homework they’d been set, he kept going back to the idea of a new DA. He hadn’t realised before now just how much he’d relied on Harry – and Ron and Hermione, for that matter – to get things going. He was happy to go along with things, but he’d never been the leading type.

Ginny didn’t help. “Did I hear Luna right before?” she asked, coming up and perching herself on the arm of his chair. “Are you going to start up the DA again?”

Neville spluttered. “No, of course not. Luna was just thinking out loud.”

Ginny stared him down, clearly unconvinced. “Well, if you do, make sure you let me know, okay? I want to help.” She went to stand up again, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.

“What is it that makes everyone think that I’m going to be the one to do all this stuff? You know me, Ginny. I’m not Harry. I’m not anyone.”

“Of course you are. You’re Neville. And really, who else is there?”

“You,” Neville said, grabbing a piece of sudden inspiration. “You could do it.”

She stood up and stared at him. “Me?”

“Well, why not? You’re smart, you know everyone and people listen to you.” The more he thought about it, the more Neville liked this idea.

Ginny frowned at him, clearly considering the matter. “I’ll think about it,” she said eventually. “But if I do, you’ll be on board, right?”

Neville smiled, feeling as though a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

****

The next morning, the first of the new arrivals appeared. They hadn’t even finished breakfast when two very rough-looking men Neville hadn’t seen before opened the doors to the Great Hall, dragging someone between them. “Snape!” one of them bellowed. “Got one for ya.”

Neville looked at Seamus in puzzlement, then stared at the person being dragged in. It was a girl, maybe a couple of years below them, who looked vaguely familiar. Snape, for his part, just nodded curtly and paid no further attention to the visitors, instead continuing a conversation with Amycus Carrow next to him. Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, got up and hurried forward.

“Orla! Are you alright?” he asked as the girl was summarily dropped by her captors. She was clearly not alright – one eye was black, there were cuts on her face and hands, and she was plainly struggling to stand, one knee buckling beneath her weight.

“Who’s she?” Seamus asked. “And what happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Neville said heavily. “And I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“What’s that?” Ginny had clearly heard his last statement. She had taken to sitting opposite Neville at mealtimes, perhaps because of the link they shared with Harry. After all, there were precious few other people at Hogwarts who she could talk to about him. “Of course we need to find out. What did they do to her?”

“I bet she was trying to stay away from the school this year,” Seamus said. “My mam was talking about not letting me come back, but then they made it compulsory.”

Neville looked from the injured girl, who Professor Flitwick was now helping to the Ravenclaw table, to Seamus. “You know, I think you might have something there,” he said slowly. “They must be rounding people up and bringing them in. So they can all get brainwashed by the Carrows or something.”

“See?” said Ginny, moving bacon around her plate with her fork. “And look, they’re not even letting Madam Pomfrey look after her.” Neville turned to the staff table again, where indeed the school Matron seemed to be held back by an invisible force as she tried to get to the girl, the distress on her face evident. “See, that’s why we have to do something.”

“Well, that’s up to you,” Neville said, glad once more that he had managed to absolve himself of this responsibility.

She just looked at him, finally spearing her bacon and bringing it to her mouth. “We’ll see.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said, putting her fork down again, “that this is going to have a lot more weight if there’s a seventh-year involved, rather than just a couple of sixth-years.”

“A couple?”

“Well, obviously I’m including Luna,” Ginny said disparagingly. “This was her idea, after all.”

Seamus looked confused. “What was her idea?”

“Restarting the DA, of course.” Ginny looked even more disparaging. “But yeah, a seventh-year will make a difference.”

“But back when we did it, Harry and Hermione were only fifth-years,” Neville pointed out.

“Duh. That was Harry Potter, who had gone up against Voldemort only a few months earlier.” Neville flinched at the name but Ginny didn’t seem to notice. “Of course people paid attention.”

“Well, you went up against the Death Eaters last June,” Neville said hopefully.

“And so did Luna, and so did you,” Ginny said. “That’s why it has to be us. _All_ of us.”

Neville was silent, his gaze going beyond Ginny to the injured Orla at the Ravenclaw table. If they were going to do that to people simply for not attending school – and if they were going to practice Unforgivable Curses on students, like they had the day before – then Ginny was right. Something had to be done.

He lay awake for several hours that night, mulling over the pros and cons in his mind. The main benefits were being able to fight back against the regime, no matter how small their contribution, and knowing they were doing something in the fight against Voldemort. The down side, though, was that if they got caught, Neville wasn’t sure Snape and the Carrows wouldn’t kill them.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking it over. The next morning, on the way to breakfast and rather the worse for wear due to lack of sleep, he and Seamus ran into Luna on the stairs from the fifth floor.

“What was the deal was with that girl who arrived yesterday?” Neville asked. “Orla something? They must be rounding up those kids who didn’t come back this year.”

Luna nodded seriously. “We in Ravenclaw got the story from her last night,” she said. “Orla’s a half blood – father’s pure blood but mother’s Muggle-born, and once the Ministry fell they decided not to enrol her this year. That sort of thing does happen when you’ve got a murderer for a Headmaster, after all.”

“Well, yeah,” Seamus said. “So how did they find her?”

“They didn’t realise the Aurors would be searching for her,” Luna said. “They weren’t on the run. So when the Ministry came knocking, they didn’t have anywhere to hide. So they brought Orla here, and sent her parents to Azkaban for trying to subvert the system.” She used her fingers as inverted commas for that last bit, and Neville shuddered.

“Azkaban? Just for not sending their kid to school?”

She nodded, her face serious. “It’s what they’re doing, apparently. You toe the line or you get sent to Azkaban.” She grinned suddenly. “So I guess we know what to expect once they find out we’re restarting the DA!”

Neville groaned. “Not that again,” he muttered. “Luna, I don’t know who’s going to run it this year. Remember? No Harry, no Ron, no Hermione. Who else has the skills?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Luna asked with a smile. “We do. I was thinking about it last night. We fought with them in the Ministry. We fought with them at the Astronomy Tower last year. We’re the ones to do it.”


	5. The return of Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things at the school are going back to normal - or, as normal as they can be under the circumstances.

Orla Quirke’s story was still the talk of the Great Hall that morning, as those students who were left started asking one another openly what else was going to change. “If they’re dragging in kids who’re skipping school, what else is going to change?” someone asked.

“I expect they’re searching our post, for one thing,” a dark girl on Neville’s left said. He thought she was Demelza Robins, who was on the Quidditch team, but wasn’t a hundred per cent sure. After all, his natural clumsiness had meant he’d never had much to do with the team, apart from cheering them on at games. But then, everyone did that.

“Are they?” Someone else looked surprised – a fourth-year, perhaps. It was rather unnerving how few people Neville knew the names of now, even in Gryffindor. With the seventh years down to four students, and the years below never getting much of his attention, he knew maybe a dozen people. He shook his head at himself in frustration. That would have to change.

“Yeah, my owl looked like she had been interfered with yesterday when she brought the post in,” Demelza said – if it was her. “I took her to Hagrid and he said the same thing. So yeah, I’d say so.”

“What about Quidditch?” Seamus asked. “Are we going to be doing that this year?”

Demelza’s face lit up. “Oh, I hope so.”

Neville shook his head. “I doubt it. Though I can understand why Snape didn’t mention it at the start of term feast. He would have had a mutiny on the first day.”

Ginny frowned. “I don’t know. He might be willing to let it start up, at least. The more normal the rest of school feels, the more likely people are to accept what the Carrows are doing.”

Seamus looked aghast. “You really think people are going to accept it?”

Ginny shrugged. “People accept a lot when they’re not given a choice. I noticed that when Umbridge was here.”

Neville agreed with her. Without a leader, someone to set the standard, people were much more likely to just take the status quo and not question it. It was only when someone stood up to it that questions began to be asked. Not that he expected Snape to allow questions.

“Why don’t you ask him?” he asked. “Snape, I mean.”

Ginny looked surprised. “Ask Snape what?”

“Whether Quidditch will be allowed this year,” Neville said. “I’m guessing you would be the captain, right? There’s not really anyone else left.”

“Harry’s – oh, right. Yes, I guess I am the most likely.” She giggled. “That’s if being a Weasley hasn’t poisoned the job against me. Oh, get a grip,” she said in frustration, as Ritchie Coote winced at the mention of poison. “He won’t actually poison me. Well, not immediately, anyway, I wouldn’t think.”

“Why don’t you go to McGonagall first?” Seamus asked. “She was on our side against Umbridge, she probably is against Snape as well.”

Neville was doubtful. “With Umbridge she had Dumbledore to back her up. Well, for most of the year she did anyway. Now, with Snape as Headmaster …”

Ginny shrugged again. “She’s head of House, so I’ll ask her first. Though I suspect she’ll send me to Snape anyway. I get the feeling he’s going to want to be in control of pretty much every aspect of the school this year.”

****

Ginny came into the common room the following day looking pensive, and headed straight for Neville and Seamus. “Well, I spoke to McGonagall, and she did what we thought, which was to tell me to ask Snape. Guess I should be glad it was him and not one of the Carrows, thinking about it.” She rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated shudder. “So I went up to see Snape right away, so I didn’t have too much time to think about it.”

“What sort of mood was he in?” Neville asked.

“Can you even tell with him? His face shows nothing. No triumph, no confusion, no gloating, nothing. Anyway, I asked him about Quidditch, given I’m the most senior member of the team. If the competition is even going to be on this year we’ll need to hold tryouts pronto, because we’ve only got three players left – me, Demelza and Jimmy Peakes. Oh, and you, Seamus, if you want to play.”

Seamus started, clearly surprised, but nodded. “I was next in after Dean, wasn’t I?” he asked. “Yeah, thanks Ginny.”

“So it’s back on, then?” Neville couldn’t hide his surprise.

Ginny nodded. “It is for now, at least. He said he should have mentioned something at the start of term feast, and thanked me for reminding him. Though it seemed to me that it wasn’t a mistake, him not mentioning it. I got the feeling he hadn’t made up his mind till that moment whether to do it or not. Maybe he was just waiting for someone to ask.”

“And he let you be captain?” Neville still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Well, maybe he thinks he’ll be able to keep a closer eye on me or something. Don’t really know, though. Aren’t Quidditch captains supposed to have some kind of extra privileges or something?” She frowned again. “Weird he’d be giving that to a Weasley, really, isn’t it?”

“Well, don’t complain,” Seamus said with a grin. “Quidditch! At least something will feel normal, right?”

Ginny leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s one more thing,” she said, her voice low.

Neville leaned in too. “What’s that?”

“The Sword of Gryffindor. It’s in his office.”

“Of course it is,” Neville said in confusion. “Wasn’t it in there when Dumbledore was Headmaster? Why should it have moved?”

“Because Dumbledore left it to Harry in his will,” Ginny said. “Only thing is, the Ministry wouldn’t let him have it. Said it wasn’t Dumbledore’s to give. That’s when Scrimgeour was Minister, but still …”

Neville was so shocked he could barely speak. “Dumbledore left the sword to Harry?”

“Yes. And we all saw the Minister refuse to give it to him. The whole thing happened at our house over the summer.”

Neville shook his head in amazement, and Seamus looked just as astonished. “Wow.”

Ginny nodded significantly. “And that means it’s important in whatever it is Harry’s doing this year.”

Seamus raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t he just on the run? Undesirable Number One and all that?”

Ginny looked appalled. “Of course not. He’s been given a job to do, by Dumbledore himself. Now, if we can get the sword to him somehow, that’s bound to help, right? As well as really getting up Snape’s and the Carrows’ noses.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Neville could see where she was going, but didn’t see how it could work. “But how could we get it to him? Even if we could get our hands on it, which I doubt. We’d need the password to get up to Snape’s office, for one thing.”

“I’ve got that,” Ginny said with a grin. “Needed it to get in to speak to him, didn’t I? It’s ‘Dumbledore’.”

Neville’s jaw dropped. “Dumbledore?”

“Yeah, I was surprised too. Maybe he’s just wanting to remind himself of that particular victory.” Ginny made a face that showed exactly what she thought of that idea. “But anyway, it’s easy to remember.”

“We still can’t get it to him, can we? Every passage out of the school is being watched, the post is being intercepted and you can bet Filch will use the Probity Probes if we’re allowed out on Hogsmeade visits this year.” Neville quite liked the idea, but he didn’t see how it could possibly be done.

Ginny looked like she was thinking hard. “How about Christmas? I could get it in my trunk and take it home that way.”

Seamus looked sceptical again. “You really think you can smuggle the Sword of Gryffindor out of the school in your trunk?”

“Well, why not? And do you have a better idea?”

“I do.” Neville’s voice surprised even himself. “You’re a Weasley, you’re the first person they’re going to go to if they’re looking for something like that. If he was at your house when Scrimgeour refused to give it to him, then the Ministry will know that your family knows about it. And you’re on the list of undesirables as it is.”

Ginny looked resolutely at him. “Then what’s your idea?”

“I take it home,” he said. “They won’t suspect me so easily.”

“And how will you get it to Harry?” Ginny asked.

“How would you?” he shot back. “He’s on the run, isn’t he? I hardly think he’ll be dropping into your place for Christmas lunch.” Ginny looked abashed, and Neville took the opportunity to keep talking. “I’ll leave it with Gran. If anyone can find a way to get the sword to Harry, it’s her.”

“Your grandmother?” Ginny was openly sceptical now.

“You don’t know Gran,” Neville said. “Seriously, she’s a force to be reckoned with. And I think that she’d be able to get it to him, somehow.”

“So it’s settled, then,” Ginny said with a grin. “We get the sword, one way or another. And you take it home and your grandmother gets it to Harry somehow.” Her whole face looked alive now. “And THAT will piss off the Ministry no end.”

****

Snape was as good as his word. The next morning at breakfast he stood up before the meal was served, just like Dumbledore used to when he made an announcement.

Fortunately all he had to do was glare at the student body before the chatter died away and they gave him their full attention. Fortunately, Neville thought, because he hated to think what would happen to anyone who wasn’t toeing the line. The look of anticipation on Amycus Carrow’s face was warning enough for anyone.

“I would like to announce that Quidditch trials will be held in the coming fortnight,” Snape said, his face as usual showing no emotion whatsoever. “My apologies for not mentioning this before – it must have slipped my mind. Team captains will be organising trials within each house.”

The room was immediately abuzz with chatter, and Snape didn’t push the matter and obligingly sat down. For once the talk sounded happy, enthusiastic – the way Hogwarts used to sound, Neville reflected. Before Dumbledore was murdered, before the Ministry fell, before the Carrows.

“Do I need to try out?” Jimmy Peakes was asking Ginny, who had been identified as the captain by someone or other. “I was on the team last year, remember?”

Ginny laughed. “Yes, I remember, Jimmy, but I want to hold tryouts for every spot this year. We’ve lost so many members the team might as well start from scratch.” She looked down the table at Demelza Robins and Ritchie Coote. “That goes for you too, okay? Everyone needs to show up for trials.”

Demelza looked vaguely surprised, but nodded. “Sure thing, Ginny. Just let us know when and we’ll be there.”

****

A week later Hannah Abbott arrived at the school, though in circumstances rather less dramatic than those of Orla Quirke. It was as simple as one day she wasn’t there, and the next she was, looking rather annoyed at her change in location.

“I want to fight them,” she muttered in Charms that morning. They were practicing Imperturbable Charms, which made it very easy to have a conversation that wasn’t easily overheard. “Not be stuck here learning from them.” She looked at Ernie, who she was working with, just next to Neville and Seamus. “Is it true they’re actually teaching the Dark Arts, not Defence?”

 “Kind of,” was what Ernie said. “I think it’s safe to say that Defence has gone out the window, unless you count learning how to fight off the Imperius Curse.”

Hannah looked disgusted. “I assume that’s not in the same way Professor Moody did back in fourth year?”

“No, not at all.” Ernie looked around nervously again, but Professor Flitwick was at the other end of the classroom, apparently frustrated with Crabbe and Malfoy’s refusal to listen to him. Neville was torn between wanting to watch Malfoy get in trouble and wondering how the Carrows would deal with that, and filling Hannah in on what was going on. In the end he chose Hannah, not least because she was closer and therefore easier to pay attention to.

“They’re teaching us how to use the Cruciatus Curse,” Ernie went on in a low voice. “Seamus here can attest to that.”

Hannah looked horrified. “Seriously? An Unforgivable?”

Seamus nodded. “I was the first to find that out,” he said quietly. “Seems they don’t mind using half-bloods as examples of what not to be.”

“And pure-bloods?” Hannah asked.

Neville joined in here. “I don’t think they want to spill too much pure blood. The rubbish Alecto Carrow is spouting in Muggle Studies indicates that they want to get rid of Muggle blood, so that means the half-bloods are seen kind of as fair game.” He sighed. “So you and I and Ernie, we can get away with more than Seamus can, because his dad’s a Muggle.”

“My word.” Hannah fiddled absently with her wand, dropping it abruptly as boiling water came out the end of it in a rush and wet her fingers. “Ow!”

Her cry brought Professor Flitwick over, who chided her for not paying attention but didn’t say anything else. Instead, his eyes flicked back to Malfoy, and Neville got the message loud and clear. As a supporter of Snape and the Carrows, Malfoy wouldn’t hesitate to drop any of them in it in order to further his own prospects. They had to be careful.

Before she left for the hospital wing, Hannah looked around and dropped her voice. “I never thought it would come to this,” she said. “I mean, when the Ministry fell, we thought it would be bad, but never this bad.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why we thought that, though. Dad was smart enough to go on the run once they killed Mum, but they caught up with us in the end. I don’t even know how.”

Ernie shook his head. “They must have some kind of tracking system, I don’t know. But Mum told me that there have been a few people caught recently and they have no idea how they’ve found them. One minute they’re not there and the next they are. It’s baffling.”

“I’m sure we’ll work it out sooner or later,” Neville said. “But I think you’d better get that looked after. Don’t want Malfoy dobbing us in for anything.”

He knew he was right – Professor Flitwick kept glancing over at them, looking more troubled each time. He couldn’t tell them off too much in case word got back to the Carrows that he hadn’t been dishing out detentions even though students were misbehaving, so his hands were tied, but he was obviously frustrated with their lack of application to the task at hand. Ernie, looking around at him as well, nodded his agreement, and they got back to work.

 


	6. Dumbledore's Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“The Statute of Secrecy came into effect in 1692,” Alecto Carrow was saying. “That meant we couldn’t tell the Muggles what we was anymore. And we couldn’t use magic against ’em, either. That was the beginning of our troubles, see?”

“What, not being able to bully people?” Parvati muttered next to Neville. Fortunately Carrow didn’t seem to hear her.

“Before then, see, the Muggles knew their place. We was more powerful an’ they knew it. So they put us in charge. Trouble was, the Muggles started wantin’ more than their due, see. Started askin’ questions about why was we in charge an’ not them. And then they started resenting us, see. Not wanting magic at all, even when we was tryin’ to help ’em.” She took a breath and leered around the room. “Them witch trials you’ve heard about, well they was because the Muggles didn’t know what was good for ’em. They didn’t understand magic and it scared ’em.” She leered again, a gap-toothed smile that Neville was sure was supposed to make them feel comfortable.

“Well, they’re gonna be scared again,” she said triumphantly. “That Statute of Secrecy, well it’s gonna come down. An’ we’ll be in charge again. Like we should be.”

Neville shivered as he recounted this lesson to Luna after lunch. “She gives me the creeps,” he said, making sure they were well clear of the castle as the headed out into the September sunshine. The walls had ears, but he didn’t think the plants did. Not yet, anyway. “So sure she’s right, and that this is the right thing to do. And the worst thing is, the Muggles have no idea what’s coming. They’re going to be annihilated, and they can’t prepare or defend themselves.”

Luna nodded. “My father is trying to drop pamphlets in the nearby villages. They don’t read the _Quibbler_ , of course, so he thought it might help. I don’t think it will be enough though.” She shook her head. “It seems strange to think that everything was normal only a few months ago.”

They walked down towards the lake, the sunshine failing to reduce the sense of foreboding. Ahead, somewhat to the right, lay Dumbledore’s grave, the white marble marring the otherwise perfectly manicured lawns.

“It’s so hard to believe he’s really gone,” Neville said, as much to break the silence as anything else.

Luna nodded. “I know. I liked him being Headmaster. You always felt safe.”

“Well I don’t feel particularly safe now,” Neville muttered. It was supposed to be under his breath but Luna caught it.

“Why not?” she asked, her protuberant eyes widening in surprise. “You’ve got me, you’ve got Ginny, and the rest of the DA. We’ll protect you. We’ll protect everyone.”

Neville couldn’t help but smile at her optimism. “We’ll need some more members though,” he pointed out after a moment’s consideration. “There’s not so many of us left now. Harry, Ron and Hermione are gone. The Weasley twins have left and so have Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Lee, Cho Chang, that other girl she brought who ratted on us …”

“Marietta Edgecombe,” Luna said. “She was very upset about the jinx Hermione put on that paper.”

“Well she shouldn’t have ratted on us then,” Neville said, surprising himself with his own fierceness. “So, who’s left? You, me, Ginny …”

“Michael Corner and Terry Boot,” Luna said, naming some Ravenclaws in Neville’s year.

“Oh yeah. And Anthony Goldstein. Oh, and Ernie Macmillan,” Neville said. “Justin Finch-Fletchley, but he’s not here either. Muggle-born.”

“And Zacharias Smith,” Luna said. “I don’t know that he’s still got his Galleon, though. He didn’t seem very happy with us back then.”

Neville made a face. “I’d forgotten about him. He was a right piece of work, wasn’t he?”

“He was a bit unkind,” Luna agreed.  They had reached the marble tomb now and stopped in front of it. “We are going to restart his army, aren’t we?” Luna said, indicating the name etched into the monument. “I think it’s what he would have wanted.”

Neville stared at it. It was almost like the words Albus Dumbledore had morphed in front of his eyes to read instead, “Dumbledore’s Army”. Looking up at the castle, its turrets in shadow now the sun had gone behind a cloud, he felt a sudden, renewed need to do something about Snape and the Carrows. To restore Hogwarts to what it had been under the guidance of Albus Dumbledore. To set things right once and for all.

“You’re right, Luna,” he said, surprising himself with his vehemence. “Yes, we need to start it up again.”

Luna beamed. “When will we meet?”

He pulled out his Galleon, his resolve strengthening. “Tonight. We meet tonight.”

****

Neville stood outside the Room of Requirement, feeling rather less confident about reforming the DA now he was actually doing it. He paced back and forth, asking the Room to appear. _I need somewhere we can meet for the DA, that Snape and the Carrows can’t get into_ , he thought over and over, staring at the blank stretch of wall in hope a door would appear. Finally, on his fifth lap, it did - a wooden entrance to what he hoped would be an escape from reality for a while.

He was a little early, wanting to get the room organised before anyone else came in. His Galleon had burned in his pocket only a couple of hours ago – Luna, who was much brighter than her perpetual air of dottiness had many people believing, had assured him that if he changed the message on his coin, then everyone else’s would change as well. “It doesn’t have to be Hermione’s Galleon,” she’d said. “It should work with all of them. That’s how the charm works.”

Sure enough, he got Seamus to change the message, being better at Charms than Neville was. _Dumbledore’s Army is back_ , it had read. _Meet in the usual spot 8pm tonight_. Neville wasn’t sure that anyone would show up besides himself, Luna, Ginny and Seamus, but even if it was just them, he reasoned, he would still feel like they were doing something. Anything had to be better than just sitting back and letting Snape and the Carrows inflict terror on the school.

Ginny was next to arrive, looking around with interest as she came in. “Looks a bit like it did with Harry,” she said. “But there’s some of you here too.”

Neville looked around. There were the same bookcases that the room had held two years previously, the same silk cushions. New, though, were the plants – the Flitterbloom dangling from the top of the bookshelves, the Venomous Tentacula crawling around the edges of the room, the potted alihotsy in the corner. He smiled, feeling that while it was an homage to Harry’s time in this room, it really had acknowledged that he was the one who’d set it up, who’d organised it all. “Yeah, I guess there is.”

Luna was next, looking as always like she had wandered in there by mistake. She was followed shortly afterwards by Seamus, who had agreed to leave the common room slightly after Neville and Ginny so as not to rouse suspicion.

And then, there came the flood. Ernie Macmillan, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Susan Bones, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, Ritchie Coote, Demelza Robins and Jimmy Peakes all crowded through the door. Neville stared at them – some of these people hadn’t even been part of the DA two years earlier. How had they found out about it now?

Ginny saw his confusion. “I may have mentioned something at Quidditch trials,” she said lightly. “I figured that the more who came tonight, the better.”

Ernie Macmillan was wandering around the room, picking up books from the shelves and flicking through them. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said. “Almost feels like it did before, doesn’t it?”

Even Zacharias Smith found his way through the doors. “I thought this was a joke,” he said to no one in particular.

Ginny glared at him. “Then why are you here?”

Smith shrugged. “Thought I’d follow Ernie. See what this was about.”

Ernie had caught this exchange and Neville saw him share a look with Ginny, one that said, “that had nothing to do with me.” He smiled.

“Well, thanks everyone for coming,” he said loudly, drawing attention to himself in a most un-Neville-like way.

The chatter stopped and they all turned to him expectantly. He felt extraordinarily self-conscious, but an encouraging smile from Luna gave him some strength.

“We’re here,” he said, “because we don’t like what’s happening at our school. Because we don’t like what Snape and the Carrows are doing, or making US do. Because this isn’t the Hogwarts that Albus Dumbledore wanted.”

Zacharias Smith spoke up. “Dumbledore’s dead. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Of course I noticed,” Neville said quietly. “I was one of the ones fighting Death Eaters in the Astronomy Tower the night he died. I also noticed that you weren’t.”

Smith stared at him, made a movement like he was about to say something, then stopped.

Neville nodded at him and continued. “We can’t help but see the grave out on the lawns,” he said. “Dumbledore gave his life for this school. Are we really going to let Snape do what he’s doing to it?”

Parvati put a hand up. “But how can we stop them?” she asked. A number of people made noises of agreement, Smith included.

Ginny stepped forward. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re Dumbledore’s Army. We’re what the Ministry was afraid of two years ago – let’s give them a good reason to be afraid of us now.”

There was a cheer around the room – small at first, then larger and larger as more and more people joined in. Suddenly the fifteen people who had come to this first meeting seemed to have morphed into twice or three times that number. Clearly the idea of giving one back to the Carrows was a popular one.

“We fight,” Neville said. “No, not like that,” he went on as he noticed people starting to pull away, as though they thought they’d need to do an _Avada Kedavra_ then and there. “We mount a resistance. We do little things to undermine their authority. We refuse to play by their rules.”

“So how do we do that?” someone asked; Neville didn’t recognise her, but she wore Ravenclaw robes.

Neville quietened the group down. “We’ll start small,” he said. “Spread the word, try to get more people coming to these meetings.”

Michael Corner nodded. “Keep it quiet, though,” he said. “It won’t be long before Snape enacts that Educational Decree whatever it was that Umbridge had, to stop more than three students gathering together at one time. And you can bet your life he wouldn’t be approving this group.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and Zacharias Smith came forward again. “So that’s it?” he asked, his voice loud and brash. “Just try to get a little club formed? Why did we bother coming here then?”

“To show that we’re not alone.” Everyone turned to find the speaker, and Luna stepped forward. “We’re all here, together, wanting the same thing and willing to fight for it. That has to be worth something, doesn’t it?”

Neville breathed a sigh of relief. Trust Luna to summarise it so neatly and make everyone comfortable. She wasn’t as forthright as Ginny, or as headstrong; she didn’t have Neville’s confidence issues; she just saw things as they were and wasn’t afraid to say what she saw. And she would probably be a greater asset than any of them could appreciate.

“Keep an eye on your Galleons,” Neville said. “Sorry to those who are new, but we don’t have any more. If anyone here can do a Protean Charm we might see if we can get some done up.”

Anthony Goldstein put up his hand. “I can do those.”

Neville looked at him gratefully. “Thanks. We’ll distribute them next time then. So, everyone, keep an eye on your Galleons. If you don’t have one, find someone who does – someone in your own House, so we don’t raise suspicions. We’ll work out what to do then.”

****

They saw the first one the very next morning – scrawled on the walls of a corridor on the second floor, _Dumbledore’s Army Still Recruiting!_ Seamus pointed it out to Neville on their way down to breakfast.

“Geez. Who do you think did that?” he asked.

Neville stared at it, unsure whether he was pleased or horrified at the act. Yes it was good to have some enthusiasm about the DA, and it was bound to annoy the new Headmaster, but there was nothing surer to get Snape to start banning student gatherings than that kind of action.

Sure enough, by lunchtime the signs were up all over the school. Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four had been re-enacted, with groups of more than three students banned, unless permission was given by the Headmaster. Ginny groaned loudly.

“I only just got permission for the Quidditch team to be formed,” she said, looking annoyed as she stabbed at a sausage with her fork. “Now I have to go and ask for it again.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Neville said. “You didn’t any trouble last time, did you? You just have to make sure he doesn’t have a reason to say no.”

Ginny pulled a Galleon out of her pocket and looked at it, and Neville recognised it as being from the DA. “I guess,” she said. “No reason to say no. No reason at all.”


	7. Disillusionment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy is finding Hogwarts isn't to his liking as much as he had thought.

A few days later at breakfast, Neville noticed a nervous-looking first year came up to Ginny and thrust a small roll of parchment at her, before scooting off as fast as she could. Ginny took one look at the girl’s retreating form and, dropping the scroll distractedly on the table next to her plate, burst out laughing.

“Geez, half the kids here seem to be running away from me. Am I that scary?” The question sounded rhetorical, but Neville answered it anyway.

“Probably. You’re the great Ginny Weasley, girlfriend of Harry Potter. That one was either in awe of you or terrified you’ll contaminate her.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Ginny gave him a look, but he just shrugged.

“Whatever. Do you think that anyone here cares that you’ve technically broken up?” He met her stare head-on. “Come on, Ginny, we all know you two are going to pick it up again where you left off. It’s just a matter of time.”

She put down her fork and looked around the room. “Is that what people are saying?”

Seamus came to Neville’s rescue and nodded, hurriedly swallowing his pumpkin juice. “Pretty much.”

Luna, who had joined them from the Ravenclaw table for breakfast, agreed. “I’ve heard several people in Ravenclaw saying that, too.”

After what seemed like a long moment, Ginny picked up her fork again, put the now-cold bacon in her mouth, and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t care. They can say what they like.” She looked at the scroll next to her plate. “Guess I need to find a bin for this.”

Seamus glanced at it. “Why, what is it?”

“Slug Club invitation.” She made a face. “I try to avoid those parties if at all possible.”

Neville shook his head. “No. Don’t throw it out.”

She gaped at him. “Why on earth not? You know how bad those parties are.”

“I have an idea it might come in handy. You know, the Slug Club.”

That got her attention. “Handy? How?”

“It must have some function,” Luna said serenely as she reached for some kippers. “Otherwise it would have been disbanded when Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four came in. I imagine Snape has some spies in there.”

Ginny was nodding slowly. “That would make sense.”

Neville swallowed his spoonful of porridge and lowered his voice. “Right. Who else is in that club this year?”

Ginny moved some bacon around her plate. “Um … I’ve only been to one or two so far. Let me think …Most of the same people as last year. You know, Zabini, Melinda Bobbin, Nott, Malfoy …”

Neville put his goblet down excitedly. “Malfoy? But he wasn’t in it last year, was he?”

Ginny stared at him. “You’re right. He wasn’t.” She paused, picking up her mug of tea and taking a sip. “You know, I’d forgotten that. Harry and I spent so much time trying to get out of those parties that I think I just forgot he hadn’t been there from the start.”

“He wanted to, though,” Neville mused. “Remember? He’d hover around hoping for an invitation. But he never got one. I thought it was because his dad was in Azkaban.”

“He’s not now, though.” Seamus was speaking through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. Seamus hurriedly swallowed and went on. “Now You-Know-Who’s in charge, and Lucius Malfoy’s out of prison, maybe he’s part of the inner circle.”

“Nott wasn’t in it last year, either,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “But he’s back in the good books this year. Another son of a Death Eater.”

“Maybe Snape ordered Slughorn to include them,” Neville said slowly, thinking hard about it. “Particularly Malfoy, being Head Boy and all that. Is Pansy Parkinson in there too?”

Ginny nodded, her eyes narrowing. “Yes she is. I think you might be onto something there, Neville. I can’t believe I never thought about it.”

“Too busy trying to get out of going, I expect,” Neville said with a smile, reaching for some toast. “I remember how dull those parties could be.”

Ginny grinned at him. “Ghastly, aren’t they? I was so jealous when he stopped inviting you last year. Even talked over with Harry what I could do to revoke my own invitation.”

Neville’s mind was working at a million miles an hour. If Ginny went to the Slug Club parties, she might be able to learn something from Malfoy or – more likely, the more he thought about it – Pansy Parkinson. If she was able to listen in on any private conversations they might have, she might find out if they were planning anything. Quickly, the words spilling out of him as he tried to convey his thoughts, he told Ginny and Seamus what he was thinking.

Ginny was a little sceptical. “Why would they talk about anything secret there? They’ve got a whole common room they can use.”

“Well, yes, but if there’s anyone else who’s on the inner with the Carrows, who’s not in Slytherin, that might be their best chance to spread information,” Neville said.

Luna shook  her head. “But they could just do what I’m doing. Sit at another table. There aren’t any rules about that.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Ginny said, as the figure of Amycus Carrow materialised over Seamus’ head, pointing his wand at Luna.

“What’s a Ravenclaw doin’ at the Gryffindor table, then?” he asked. “Reckon you’re in the wrong place, Missy.”

Luna looked particularly uninterested in what Carrow had to say. Neville wasn’t sure if it was bravery or that she wasn’t grasping the seriousness of the situation. You never could tell with Luna.

“I was just catching up with some friends,” she said.

Carrow was counting heads. “One … two … three… four!” he said triumphantly. “That’s breakin’ Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, that is. More’n three students gathering t’gether?”

Ginny glared at him. “We’re having breakfast! There’s no rule about that.”

“Ah, but there is one about sitting at the wrong tables. And Miss Ravenclaw ’ere is in breach o’ that. Up you get, Missy,” he prodded, poking at Luna with his wand.

Luna stood up, somehow making it look like it was her idea. “It was nice to see you, Ginny,” she said clearly. “I think I’ll go back to my own table now.”

And without looking at Carrow, she turned and headed across the hall.

Neville watched her go, and then made sure Carrow had gone back to the Head Table. “Well, I guess that means they can’t use mealtimes to pass on information.”

Ginny nodded. “So for people from other Houses, the Slug Club might well be their best way of passing on info, especially if they’re in different year groups too.”

Seamus put down his goblet. “I reckon Zacharias Smith, for one, is mean enough to go over to their side,” he said. “And there’s that bloke in Ravenclaw who didn’t join the DA – what’s his name again?”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Steven Cornfoot. He’s in the Slug Club! Wow. I think you’ve got something here, Neville.” She unrolled the parchment and cast her eyes over it. “Next party is tomorrow night. Better find my Extendable Ears and see what I can find out, right?”

****

“Today,” Professor Flitwick announced, standing on his desk at the front of the room, “we are going to start learning Disillusionment Charms.  Who can tell me what a Disillusionment Charm is?”

Neville stifled a grin, wondering if he was ever going to get used to not having Hermione here to wave her hand urgently in the air at such questions. Unfortunately, Flitwick noticed.

“Longbottom? Can you tell the class?”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to draw attention to himself, and blushed furiously, aware of Seamus’ silent sniggering next to him. Fortunately he thought he knew the answer, thanks to overhearing some of the Ravenclaws’ conversations after DA meetings.

“Um … It’s a charm that makes you blend in with your surroundings. Like camouflage, rather than making you invisible.”

Flitwick beamed at him. “Excellent answer! Take ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, that’s exactly what a Disillusionment Charm does. Has anyone heard the incantation for it?”

Again, Neville missed Hermione’s hand waving in front of him. Everyone else seemed to, as well, as there were no volunteers to answer the question.

Flitwick beamed again. “That’s precisely right, all of you.” Neville and Seamus looked at each other, baffled, but Flitwick went on as though there had been no reaction. “The Disillusionment Charm incantation is non-verbal, so none of you would have heard it before, even if you have been Disillusioned.” He paused. “ _Have_ any of you been Disillusioned?”

A few hands went tentatively into the air, belonging to the Patil twins, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Daphne Greengrass and Malfoy. _An interesting bunch_ , Neville thought, wondering what each of the circumstances were.

Flitwick was nodding. “That many of you?” he muttered, but Neville didn’t think he looked particularly surprised. Hannah, he suspected, had been subjected to Disillusionment when she was on the run; Malfoy and Greengrass might have been for similar reasons but on the other side. Flitwick cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. “Well, then, who wants to describe what it feels like?”

It was Terry Boot who volunteered this time. “It’s weird,” he said. “Kind of like having an egg broken over your head.”

The class sniggered, but Flitwick beamed at him. “An excellent description, Boot. Take ten points for Ravenclaw.” Terry grinned, but stopped quickly when he saw Malfoy turn to look at him, venom on his face.

When the time came for them to practice the charm, Neville noticed Malfoy seemed to be having great difficulty in getting it right. No matter how many times he attempted to Disillusion Pansy Parkinson, with whom he was partnered, she stubbornly refused to disappear. Neville didn’t think she would be able to deliberately defy his wishes in this way, so it had to be that Malfoy was simply just not getting it. Conversely, Crabbe and Goyle, of all people, had mastered it just as quickly as Neville had, and were taking great delight in Malfoy’s frustration.

“What’s that, Draco?” Goyle jeered when Flitwick was on the other side of the room. “Can’t get a simple Diss-lusionment Charm right?”

Malfoy’s face was like thunder as he whirled around at them. “You watch your mouth,” he hissed. “My father …”

But he never finished his threat as just then he noticed Neville watching him, and pushed his wand at him. “What are you looking at, Longbottom?” he asked, the confident drawl back in his voice. “Trying to figure out what to do, are you?”

Neville shook his head. “No, I’ve got it fine,” he said, tapping Seamus on the head and watching with satisfaction as his friend assumed the colour and texture of the wall behind him. “What about you?”

It was probably unwise, rather like waving a red rag before a bull, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t get many opportunities to get one up on Malfoy … and this year, when common sense said he should have been more frightened of the boy, for some reason he found it easier to stand up to him. Maybe it was the knowledge they were getting one over the regime by the DA simply existing – he couldn’t rule that out. But he was ready to stand up to Malfoy. And this seemed as good a time as any.

****

Seamus looked upbeat as he joined Neville in the common room the following night. A bunch of second years had just gone to bed and he’d managed to snag the coveted spot right in front of the fireplace.

“That’s got to be a record,” Seamus said with a grin. “Three whole days and no one’s got detention with the Carrows!”

Neville scowled. “I wouldn’t say no one,” he said, gesturing towards the window where a bunch of what looked like fourth years were gathered around a girl with several burn marks on her face.

“Oh.” Seamus’s face dropped a little. “But no one from our year. Not that I’ve seen, at least.”

“This is true.”  Neville gazed into the fire, thinking about how the week had gone. “Though, I overheard Professor Sprout telling Professor McGonagall in the hall today that Firenze has been banned from the staff room. Can you imagine it? Banning a teacher?”

“Wow.” Seamus looked intrigued. “It must be because he’s a centaur.  You remember what Umbridge was like with half-breeds. I get the feeling the Carrows feel the same way.”

Neville shook his head. “Only some half breeds – or, really, magical creatures I guess. We know they’re fine with Dementors, and I reckon they wouldn’t say no to some help from the giants, but …” He trailed off. “It must be because centaurs have historically refused to take sides. We know Firenze doesn’t take orders from just anyone, so …”

“So they can’t bully him, so they’ve banished him. Geez.” Seamus shook his head. “Must be hard for him. Banished from the forest, banished from the staff room …”

“It’s like the rest of us,” Neville said gloomily. “They’re slowly but surely taking away everything that made Hogwarts fun.”

“Except Quidditch.” Seamus’ face lit up again. “Did you hear? Ginny got the Gryffindor team reinstated! Must’ve found Snape in a good mood for once.”

Neville was intrigued. “Really? But since when is Snape ever in a good mood?”

Seamus shrugged. “No idea. But here she comes, you can ask her.”

Neville looked up and saw Ginny walking towards them looking frustrated. “Nothing,” she said grumpily, throwing what looked like flesh-coloured strings on the table in front of the fire. Neville was a little confused at first, until he remembered there was a Slug Club meeting that night. “I listened to Malfoy all night, and I got jack out of him. All he did was whinge about some of the things his father has asked him to do, and that he expected more of a preferential treatment now the school’s under Death Eater control.” She shook her head in frustration. “Because, of course, he’s not on enough of a pedestal anymore.”

Seamus looked incredulous. “He wants to be treated better than he is?” He shook his head in astonishment, and Neville knew he was thinking  of that first Defence lesson when he’d been pulled up in front of the class and been used as a guinea pig for the Cruciatus Curse. Malfoy had never been called upon for similar treatment, and he knew he wouldn’t be.

“Yep.” Ginny had cold fury in her eyes. “If only Slughorn didn’t know I like the Bat Bogey Hex. I’d love to see how Malfoy looks with that on him.”

Ginny was downright scary when she was like this, and Neville was keen to distract her. “So, I heard you got the Quidditch team back up?”

It worked. She smiled, the firelight highlighting her vivid red hair, and he was reminded forcefully of a very satisfied cat. “Yeah, I went to ask Snape again. I think I must have looked surprised when he agreed, but he said something like he’d never intended to deprive the school of Quidditch, only some of the other, less desirable organisations.” She frowned, and the feline likeness disappeared abruptly. “I wonder which ones he means, though. It’s not like the Charms Club or the Gobstones Club are that much of a threat.”

Neville stared at her. “Uh, Ginny? He knows about the DA.”

She palmed her forehead. “Of course. Sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” She paused. “We _are_ going to keep meeting, right?”

Neville held her eye. “Seamus came in here tonight talking about it being a record number of days without anyone being tortured. Yeah. I think the DA will keep meeting.”

 


	8. Into the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid has some baby unicorns to show off

Ginny caught up with him on Friday, heading up the stairs with Luna after dinner. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

He stopped, surprised. “Me? Uh – Defence homework, probably. I don’t really want to get behind – Merlin only knows what they’ll do to someone who doesn’t hand that in. Why?”

“What about you, Luna?”

Luna was waving her hands around her face and didn’t appear to be listening. She visibly jumped when she realised Ginny was speaking. “Sorry. Wrackspurts. Were you talking to me?”

“Yes, you,” Ginny said with a grin. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Luna shrugged. “I thought I might see if Professor Sprout has got any Dirigible Plums yet. She’s been meaning to order some, and Daddy has offered to send some if she can’t get them anywhere else.”

“Right.” Ginny caught Neville’s eye and gave a conspiratorial grin. “Can you spare some time after lunch, maybe? Hagrid keeps pestering me to go down and see him. He’s got some baby unicorns he wants to show off. I thought some company would be nice.”

“Well that makes sense,” Luna said seriously. “Everyone knows unicorn blood is one of the major ingredients in Befuddlement Draughts. If we’re going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows we’ll probably need a good supply of it.”

Neville looked at Ginny, unsure what exactly the ingredients for a Befuddlement Draught were but somehow sure that unicorn blood wasn’t one of them. She caught his eye and gave him a smile.

“I never thought you’d be looking to us for company,” he said. “Aren’t you always surrounded by people?”

Ginny shrugged. “Half my friends didn’t come back this year. And anyway, Hagrid always likes to talk to me about Harry and Ron – probably more so, this year. I thought you would be better witnesses to that conversation than some other people.”

Neville nodded. That made sense, and anyway, he was beginning to get the impression Ginny was occasionally preferring his company over that of the sixth-years. She smiled and went on talking. “It’ll be nice to have some kind of normality in this school, don’t you think? Tea at Hagrid’s place will make it feel more like Hogwarts.”

Luna gave a delighted clap. “Tea? Oh, how marvellous! That would almost be like having another friend.”

Neville felt kind of awkward. He’d never been very popular either – in fact, this year it seemed like he was the most popular he had ever been, and probably ever would be – but he was never one to articulate that fact. Luna, however, seemed to have no similar misgivings, and while he was somewhat uncomfortable with proclamations like this, he could also understand them. With Harry in his dorm, he realised, he would never be the one people wanted to talk to. With the new DA, though, and him making a noise in class, suddenly he was top dog. It was taking a lot of getting used to.

They went to Hagrid’s house the following afternoon. Quidditch hadn’t started yet so their schedules were clear, and like Ginny said, doing something like taking tea with Hagrid did make it feel more like Hogwarts.

They got to his door and Ginny knocked loudly. After a few seconds the door opened a crack, and Hagrid peered out suspiciously, his enormous boarhound Fang at his feet. His expression cleared when he saw who it was.

“Ginny! Yeh made it! An’ ye’ve brought Neville an’ Luna.” When Hagrid smiled, his whole body seemed to smile, and his beetle-black eyes sparkled at them. “Come in, come in. I’ve made yeh some cakes an’ everythin’.”

Hagrid’s hut had been set on fire the previous school year, the night Dumbledore had died, and had obviously been rebuilt over the holidays. Neville took the opportunity to have a look around. It was much the same as it had been previously: a single, round room, with a huge bed in what could be described as one corner, and a scrubbed wooden table and some chairs in front of the fireplace. Grateful the chairs were human sized rather than Hagrid-sized, Neville sat down on the nearest one.

“How do yeh like yer tea?” Hagrid asked, producing a massive teapot and four of the biggest mugs Neville had ever seen.  They looked even bigger in Ginny and Luna’s small hands, and he wondered how Harry and Ron had even lifted them when they came down here as first-years.

Ginny must have indicated a tea preference for him, because he didn’t remember saying anything before one of the mugs was put heavily down on the table in front of him. Now the door was shut, Hagrid was eyeing them beadily.

“Can’t say I don’t know why ye’ve all come,” he said, giving Fang a distracted tickle under the chin. “I wouldn’t normally think Neville’d want ter see baby unicorns, do yeh?”

Neville looked up, surprised. “Of course I do!”

Hagrid grunted. “I know why ye’re here. Yeh want ter talk about the school this year.”

Ginny nodded, clearly seeing no reason to lie. “Though, the baby unicorns would be really amazing to see …”

Hagrid grinned at her. “Okay. Once ye’ve finished yer tea, we’ll go have a look at them. They’re real young still, gold colouring hasn’t disappeared yet.”

Neville drank some of his scalding tea and tentatively picked up one of the cakes in the middle of the table. He tried to bite into it, but it was too hard for his teeth to penetrate. Ginny saw his expression and giggled.

“What sort of cakes are these, Hagrid?”

Hagrid beamed at them. “Yeh like them? They’re my rock cakes. Harry was always a fan, too, yeh know.”

Neville doubted that very much, but tactfully decided not to say anything. Luna, however, had no such qualms.

“Was he?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to take a bite from her cake. “They’re rather hard to eat, aren’t they?”

“Are they?” Hagrid looked surprised. “Maybe yeh’ve just got a bad one, Luna. Harry never said anythin’.”

_I bet he didn’t._ Neville was under no illusions here – Harry would have pretended to love them but secretly fed them to Fang or something. It wasn’t worth hurting Hagrid’s feelings over something so trivial.

A few minutes later they followed the enormous man out of his cottage and towards the forest. Hagrid looked nervously over his shoulder a few times and picked up a giant crossbow by the back door. “Can’t be too careful,” he said by way of explanation. “An’ I’ve go’ permission ter show yeh the unicorns, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t gonna talk.”

Neville looked up at him. “Permission? You need permission to take us?”

Hagrid grunted. “Jus’ ter take yeh into the forest,” he said. “They don’t like the students goin’ off the school grounds.”

“But the forest is part of the school grounds, isn’t it?” Ginny asked. “We’re not exactly leaving, are we?”

Hagrid grunted again. “Depends on how yeh look at it. An’ the fores’ isn’t that safe now either, mind. Not with Aragog dead, an’ Firenze workin’ at the castle now.”

Neville had no idea who Aragog was, but he was aware it was Firenze’s decision to teach Divination at the school that had caused his expulsion from the herd of centaurs that lived in the forest. He also knew that if Hagrid was worried enough to carry a crossbow, things must be bad.

“So, how are yeh gettin’ on?”  Hagrid asked when they had been walking for about five minutes. “Up in the school, I mean.”

Neville made a face. “Not that well.”

Hagrid made a sympathetic noise. “I thought yeh might not,” he said. “Those Carrows are bad news. Course, I couldn’t say much back at the house. The walls have ears, yeh know.”

“Even your house?” Ginny asked, looking surprised.

Hagrid shrugged. “I don’ know fer sure, Ginny, but Professor McGonagall gave me a warnin’, see. Be careful what I say. Yeh never know where Snape’s bin listenin’.”

“It’s good advice,” Luna said, her expression dreamy. “The suits of armour are spying for Snape, everyone knows that. So it would make sense if he’s got spies in your house as well.”

“Suits of armour, eh?” Hagrid looked surprised, but Neville carefully kept his face neutral. “Well, I’ve not heard that one before, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Out here should be okay, though, right Hagrid?” Ginny looked around her. “I can’t see where he could have spies here.”

“Don’ be too sure, Ginny,” Hagrid said ominously. “I think we’re alrigh’ here, but some of the creatures in this forest – well, they wouldn’t be too fussed ter see You Know Who himself.” He forced a smile. “But righ’ here, yeah, I think we’re okay. Tell me – have yeh heard from Harry lately?”

Neville wasn’t surprised Hagrid asked about Harry, and was equally unsurprised when Ginny hedged around the question. It was clear she and he were still a thing, no matter what she said, and she also plainly knew more than she was letting on. Neville kept his eyes on Hagrid, who didn’t believe Ron had Spattergroit any more than anyone else seemed to, but he nodded sagely.

“Aye, yeh can’t be too careful with somethin’ like Spattergroit,” he said. “Don’t want all the kids here catchin’ it.”

Neville grinned broadly, catching Ginny’s eye.  Hagrid’s attempts at subtlety weren’t exactly on point, but at least he was trying.

“That’s right,” Ginny said. “He’s horribly contagious. Dad said even the Ministerial inspectors, when they came, didn’t want to get too close.”

They reached a clearing and Neville gasped in astonishment. Sure, he’d seen baby unicorns before, but not as many as this, and not as young either. Hagrid’s breeding program certainly was going well.

Luna went straight up to them and held out a hand, making an odd cooing sound as she did so. The nearest unicorn disentangled itself from its mother and approached her slowly, but seemed to take heart from her crooning. Hagrid passed her a sugar cube and the foal was eating from her hand in a heartbeat.

Hagrid smiled. “They like girls, unicorns do. Best yeh not get too close yet, Neville, in case yeh scare them off.”

Ginny took a cube as well and edged forward, clearly not as confident at this as Luna was. Neville found that interesting, because Ginny seemed to be confident with just about everything. Plainly even she had some limits.

“Quiet now,” Hagrid whispered. “Give her some space. She’s good with creatures, Luna is. My top OWL student last year.”

Neville hadn’t realised that, but it didn’t surprise him. Luna had an ethereal quality he was sure could calm any beast he cared to name. Well, maybe not that biting book Hagrid had set them in third year, but anything else.

Luna was still crooning, but she turned to face Ginny and smiled. “You can come over now,” she said. “He’s happy.”

The unicorn foal certainly did look happy, a sappy contented expression on its face as it nestled to the ground at Ginny’s feet. Three more foals were by Luna’s side before Neville could even take another breath. He appreciated this skill of Luna’s, wondering where she got her affinity. Then again, he felt an affinity with plants that he couldn’t fully explain. Perhaps it was like that.

By the time five minutes were up, Luna had charmed the foals to accept even Neville’s touch, and by ten minutes she was even riding the mother around the clearing. It was, quite simply, the most happily magical afternoon Neville had experienced all term.

On the way back Hagrid asked about Harry again. “So, yeh don’t have any idea what he’s doin’? What they’re up to?”

Ginny shook her head. “Then again, all my post is being read anyway, so even if anyone did know, they couldn’t tell me.”

Hagrid sighed. “Aye, of course.” His face cleared. “Still, though, they can’t have bin caught, eh? Otherwise we would have heard about it.”

“Of course he hasn’t been caught,” Luna said. “The Ministry is infested with Wrackspurts, so that’ll have them so confused they’ll never find him.”

Hagrid raised an eyebrow, though plainly he was used to this side of Luna. “Of course,” he said. “So what’re they doin’, do yeh know?”

_Something that needs the Sword of Gryffindor._ Neville debated internally about mentioning that to Hagrid, but decided against it. The fewer people who knew about their intention to steal the sword, the better.

Again it was Luna who spoke. “They’re looking for the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. Only that can give Harry the knowledge he needs to defeat Voldemort.”

Neville almost laughed at the similarity between what Luna had said and what he’d been thinking. Hagrid did laugh, though obviously not for the same reason. “Good luck ter them then,” he said. “That’s been lost fer centuries, right?” He paused suddenly, as though listening, then spoke again in a low voice. “I think that’s the centaurs comin’ through,” he said. “Best get out of their way. They’re still bitter after Firenze left. Deserted them, they reckon. Pfft.” Neville was in no doubt as to Hagrid’s thoughts about that particular incident.

“Is it true Firenze can’t come back to the forest?” Ginny asked, her voice quiet.

Hagrid nodded. “There’s some things they don’t forgive, and that’s one of them. Stubborn mules, the lot o’ them. Just ’cause Firenze did a favour for Dumbledore.” He wiped a fat tear from one cheek. “Great man, Dumbledore. There’ll never be another like him.”

Luna was looking thoughtful. “So Firenze is still loyal to Dumbledore, do you think?”

Hagrid scoffed. “They’re all loyal to Dumbledore,” he said. “Well, except that murdering scumbag Snape and the two Carrows. Death Eaters, teaching at Hogwarts? He’d be turnin’ in his grave.”

Ginny pressed him. “All of them? What about, say, Professor Trelawney? Or Madam Pince?”

“Or Filch?” Neville couldn’t hide his scepticism.

Hagrid waved a hand in the air. “Don’ yeh worry about Filch,” he said dismissively. “That Squib don’ know what’s good fer him. He’ll learn before the year’s out.”

“He’s on Snape’s side, though,” Ginny said. “Loves the new punishments they’re dishing out.”

Hagrid just grunted, and the air around them became lighter. They were getting close to the edge of the forest.

“So, ye’ll be alright gettin’ back to yer common rooms?” he asked, changing the subject. “I know I had permission ter take yeh out, but I hear they can change their minds at times.”

Neville shuddered involuntarily, and Luna nodded. “Yes, I expect we’ll be alright,” she said. “We haven’t broken any rules, have we?”

Neville shook his head. “As though that matters.”

Ginny, though, was with Luna. “I can’t see a problem, unless we run into that mad knight again. What’s his name? Sir Cardigan or something? Last week he tried to lead me on a quest and ran headlong into a painting of copper kettles and things, and knocked them all over. The noise brought Filch within about five seconds.”

Neville stifled a giggle. Sir Cadogan was a character, certainly, and he could definitely imagine the scene Ginny described.

Hagrid grinned. “Sir Cadogan? I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him, Ginny.”

Ginny gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

“Some of the portraits, they can be chatty,” Hagrid said. “I’ve known some students get really close with them. Harry’s dad, he was one. They used ter tell him when Filch was about, see.”

Neville studied him closely. Was Hagrid offering them concrete advice? Would the portraits in the castle really be willing to give warnings if the Carrows were approaching, for example?

Ginny seemed to be having the same thoughts. “Really? Harry’s dad did that?”

Hagrid grinned again. “Yeah, he did. Him an’ Sirius, they’d sweet-talk the portraits, listen to their stories. The Fat Lady was their first one, I think. Got them out of all sorts of trouble.” He cast a stern look at them. “Not that I’m advocatin’ yeh tryin’ that now,” he said firmly. “Yeh don’ know who’s listenin’ fer the other side. Some things aren’t worth risking.”

Neville shook his head in agreement. “No, of course not, Hagrid,” he said. But he caught Ginny’s eye and she grinned at him. This was certainly something they could work with.


End file.
